


I Feel Heavenly (With You)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fingering, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Switching, happy birthday oikawa ive sinned for u, trans oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi turns and cups Oikawa’s face in his hands, touch surprisingly gentle even for him, and presses a kiss to Oikawa’s mouth. His voice is low and deep, words serious and hot against his lips.</p><p>“Let me treat you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Heavenly (With You)

**Author's Note:**

> basically based off of these two pictures by shounenkings/hotgrandpas.... [1](http://hotgrandpas.tumblr.com/post/116700819327/kind-of-a-comic-i-dunno-i-started-with-the-last) and [2](http://hotgrandpas.tumblr.com/post/119901069537/its-so-hard-to-draw-nsfw-stuff-when-im-at-home-my) AKA iwaizumi eats oikawa out and then they Fuck Hard
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy!

_Throw. Catch. Duck. Throw. Catch. Throw. Catch…_

Oikawa throws the ball into the air—his feet carry him off the floor with ease, and although these aren’t skills he absolutely needs to know, it doesn’t hurt to practice anyways. He’s smart enough to know he won’t be guaranteed a specific spot on any team, especially on one that he wanted to be on.

Some of the steps are unfamiliar to him, and he fumbles over his feet or misses a beat. The ball goes flying over his head and he keeps a tally in his head. He’s winning, of course, by a longshot, but that doesn’t mean much when his opponent is the air and a gym wall.

He scoops the volleyball up from the floor and straightens his back. It’s dead silent except for the sound of his own breathing, his fingers drumming against the squishy coating of the ball, his shoes squeaking as he takes a step back to continue his practice.

His limbs are beginning to ache a bit. He’s been at this for hours, running back and forth to catch and bring the ball back to his starting point. Throwing it in the air, diving to block or receive it, and then repeating the motions. He’s done it so many times that he’s sure he could do every sequence he’s learned in his sleep. But it’s not enough.

Oikawa wipes sweat off of his temples and then readies himself, back into position for another ten-minute exercise. _It’s worth it_ , he thinks. He imagines himself in the middle of a real gym, in a real game, every single pair of eyes in the crowd on him—no, no, something even better—standing on a podium, hoisting a trophy in the air—or serving the ball for that one, final point, the one that wins them the game.

Adrenaline courses through his veins, pushing past the pain in his knees. The ball glides effortless out of his hand and through the air. He imagines someone, someone tall and dark with a warm smile, sending the ball over the imaginary net.

The ball hits the wall and then creeps back towards him; Oikawa sighs and picks it back up.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps coming towards the gym—the walls are thick and impenetrable. But he does hear the door open, and he turns around, annoyance ready to take hold of him until he sees who it is.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa smiles, twirling the volleyball on his finger and then passing it between his hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of my cute, angry boyfriend coming to visit me?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, cheeks flushing a deep red at the backhanded insult. “I’ll let that slide since it’s your birthday,” he grumbles, and Oikawa straightens up.

“Oh!” He laughs, throwing the ball. Iwaizumi catches it, tucking it underneath his arm. “I forgot.” He didn’t forget.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi walks over and grabs his arm. His palm runs along Oikawa’s arm before it settles on his hand, and their fingers entwine soon after. Iwaizumi’s hands are rough and large. Oikawa’s teased him about it before— _you’re such a brute, Iwa-chan,_ but like this, they make him feel warm and tingly.

“I’m practicing,” he pouts, tugging Iwaizumi further into the gym instead.

“On your birthday?”

Oikawa lifts his nose into the air, his face crinkling in mock defiance. “I just need to reach my daily quota.”

Iwaizumi looks at him with an expression that clearly says he’s unimpressed. “How many more minutes is that?”

He’s scowling before Oikawa even answers. “A few minutes… hours… Ah, your face is really scary right now!”

Iwaizumi elbows him in the side and throws the ball at his face. Oikawa reaches up and catches it with an even bigger pout then before. “Let me finish this one set, okay?”

“Just one?”

Oikawa nods quickly and Iwaizumi sighs, conceding without any more protesting. The antsy expression on his face clearly means that he has something he wants to do, that isn’t watch Oikawa throw a volleyball at the wall.

A surprise party, maybe? No way. The idea leaves his head as soon as it came. Iwaizumi isn’t one for surprises, and Oikawa isn’t very fond of them himself.

“Hurry up,” Iwaizumi says impatiently. Oikawa laughs and presses a big, sloppy kiss to his cheek before returning to his place in the center of the gym.

It’s different, with just Iwaizumi watching him. Alone, he only has himself and his thoughts, which is both a blessing and a curse. It allows him to think, to review every single mistake, and then either berate himself or push forward. Usually the latter wins, but the former still leaves thoughts that keep him awake at night. In front of a crowd or teammates, he has no time to think of just himself. He thinks of the game, his opponents, of every twitch and misstep that the people around him make. It’s easy to get lost in that feeling.

With Iwaizumi, he thinks of him. He thinks of how he can feel that sharp gaze digging into his back, eyes gliding down his body to take note of his shaking knees and his furrowed brow. Even if he can’t see it, he knows Iwaizumi is staring.

He serves the ball to the wall, over and over, back to practicing his usual routine. He’s panting even after just a few moments, putting in a little more force into his limbs just because Iwaizumi is watching. Iwaizumi doesn’t speak throughout the whole thing. He doesn’t even move from his spot against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, expression neutral and passive as he waits for Oikawa even though by the five minute mark, he’s tapping his foot against the floor earnestly.

Oikawa gets through his last rotation with ease, then throws the volleyball right into the basket behind him. “How was that?” he grins.

“Great. As always.” Iwaizumi stalks over to him and then wraps his arm around Oikawa’s waist. “Now come on.”

Oikawa’s lower lip curls into a fake frown. “Great? That’s it?”

“Fantastic,” Iwaizumi corrects, burying his face against Oikawa’s jaw and pressing a kiss there. “You shouldn’t be spending your birthday in the gym, so let’s _go_ already.”

“My, my,” Oikawa giggles, still a bit giddy from practice as Iwaizumi starts dragging him out of the gym. Their apartment is just a few floors away. It’s not the best—they scarified room and beauty for a complex with a gym and workout room, but it’s more than enough. “What could Iwa-chan have possibly prepared that’s getting him so worked up?”

Iwaizumi pauses when they get into the elevator. He turns and cups Oikawa’s face in his hands, touch surprisingly gentle even for him, and presses a kiss to Oikawa’s mouth. His voice is low and deep, words serious and hot against his lips.

“Let me treat you.”  
  


* * *

 

“Iwa-chan! You didn’t even bother to move the furniture around, let alone decorate. How is this even a treat?”

Oikawa pulls Iwaizumi into his arms, falling with his back to the bed. Oikawa props himself up onto his elbows and looks down at Iwaizumi, face blossoming red with embarrassment. Iwaizumi is so undeniably _handsome_ , Oikawa thinks. Iwaizumi takes his breath away and then breathes it back into him at the same time. He runs his fingers along Iwaizumi’s cheeks, over his smooth, dark skin; over his freckles, every one of which Oikawa his mapped out; over his lips, chapped and ever-kissable.

“Your treat isn’t me moving the furniture around.” Iwaizumi rakes his fingers through Oikawa’s hair. His gaze is tender, fingers careful not to tug too hard or push too lightly. It’s just right. Oikawa feels like he’s melting, just from being underneath Iwaizumi, just from being at the very center of his world in that moment. “Silly,” he adds for good measure.

Oikawa snorts and drops his hands down Iwaizumi’s shoulders, until his arms are wrapped around him. “Mm?” He hums, right as Iwaizumi leans down to kiss him. Their mouths fit together so nicely—at first it had been awkward, their noses bumping into each other and Oikawa biting too hard or Iwaizumi doing unexpectedly unpleasant things with his tongue that make Oikawa shiver to remember. But they don’t need to speak now, not even to change the pace of the kiss from sweet and slow to hard and sloppy.

Iwaizumi drags his lips along Oikawa’s, sucking on his lips in the exact way that makes Oikawa moan. His breath is warm against Oikawa’s skin, fanning out over his cheeks and chin as he pulls back for air. “You have, ah,” Iwaizumi licks his lips. “Drool. Here.”

Iwaizumi’s thumb swipes over Oikawa’s chin, wiping off the remnants of their kiss from his skin that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“It’s cute, right?” Oikawa grins wildly, because he knows he’s beautiful, especially in Iwaizumi’s eyes.

Iwaizumi grumbles something incoherently—Oikawa can guess what it is, that Oikawa is wrong but he’s also very unfortunately right—and tugs at Oikawa’s shirt. He sits up a bit and Oikawa slips it off, humid summer air fanning over his skin and making him warm already. It wasn’t just the air that was making him hot, though.

Green eyes, wide and filled to the brim with affection, soak him in. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and sends a shiver down his spine. “Enjoying the view?” Oikawa breathes out, significantly less teasing than he would’ve liked it to have been. He rolls his lower lip into his mouth and bites down when Iwaizumi buries his face against his chest, lips pressing a wet spot over the rough cotton of his sports bra.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi mutters and then grins, ear-to-ear. “I hate to say it,” even though he doesn’t, not at all, “but you are cute.”

“I know,” Oikawa replies cheekily, carding his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair, silently urging him to continue.

They’re far past the point of getting embarrassed to show themselves, and Iwaizumi wastes no time in shoving the bottom part of his sports bra over his chest. His hands run down Oikawa’s sides, settling on his waist, thumbing over the band holding his pants to his hips.

Oikawa’s skin burns wherever Iwaizumi touches him. He presses kisses in between his breasts, down the dip of his cleavage. He leaves marks, small ones that make Oikawa’s back arch; Iwaizumi presses him back down with his palm on Oikawa’s waist. He leaves a trail of kisses from the center of his chest to his left breast. Oikawa shuts his eyes after that, allowing himself the pleasure of relaxing against the soft sheets and focusing on Iwaizumi’s wet kisses to his skin.

Iwaizumi takes his nipple into his mouth, suckling and nipping lightly until Oikawa is squirming, crying out quietly and pushing himself back up against Iwaizumi’s mouth. His tongue slides along the pad and Oikawa is left gasping, delirious and dizzy even when his eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

“Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan,” he calls, tugging on Iwaizumi’s hair. He’s a bit rough as he pushes Iwaizumi closer to him, but Iwaizumi doesn’t complain. One of his hands snakes up Oikawa’s body and lands on his other breast, fingers teasing and tweaking the neglected peak in between his fingers. He pinches the hard tip, Oikawa’s body teetering the point of pain and delirious pleasure. Iwaizumi’s mouth never falters—he’s determined, rasping hungrily against his chest, teeth scraping against his skin. Oikawa would be happy to die like this, underneath Iwaizumi with the other boy tucked into his arms. “I… Iwa—Ah,” he gasps, eyes fluttering wide open.

Iwaizumi lifts his head after what seems like forever, smiling wryly. But he only gives Oikawa a few moments to gather his bearings before his mouth is back on Oikawa, as sloppy and as kind to him as ever in the way he sips on Oikawa, marking him a deep pink.

“I love you,” Oikawa whispers, fingers clawing down Iwaizumi’s back, fisting his shirt.

Iwaizumi climbs back over him and grabs Oikawa’s face in his hands, drawing him close by a harsh hold to his jaw. Oikawa allows Iwaizumi to take hold of the kiss; he’s too tired to do anything but kiss back and hold Iwaizumi close. Their lips smack together and Iwaizumi grazes his teeth along the opening of Oikawa’s mouth, pulling moans out from somewhere deep in Oikawa’s throat.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi hisses, but even a swear word can be full of love, Oikawa finds. “I love you too. Let me—let me eat you out. Please?”

Oikawa wets his lips with his tongue, panting. How can he say ‘no’ to that? “ _Please_ ,” he repeats in reply, hips thrusting upwards at the thought if Iwaizumi on his knees, face tucked in between Oikawa’s thighs, mouth hungrily pushing in between his folds…

When he looks down, he almost feels like he’s going to come on the spot.

Iwaizumi pulls down his fly, not with his teeth, unlike Oikawa. Iwaizumi isn’t as dirty and shameless in the way he tears Oikawa’s clothes off—he has a semblance of pride in the bedroom that Oikawa doesn’t have. This is perfectly okay with him, because there’s only a few beats until Iwaizumi is pulling down his boxers.

Oikawa’s fingers curl against the sheets and he takes in a deep breath, tilting his head back when the first contact of Iwaizumi’s breath diffuses over his skin. He fantasizes about this, all the time, and while it’s not exactly _rare_ for Iwaizumi to push Oikawa down onto the bed—or, on the other hand, for Oikawa to push Iwaizumi down and slide onto his face—it’s still a treat. Oikawa treasures any number of Iwaizumi’s touches. His toes curl in anticipation, mind racing, hot and heavy thoughts and desires taking over his body.

“Hajime…” he gasps, holding himself steady with one hand and lazily stroking the top of Iwaizumi’s head with the other. Iwaizumi kisses him, reverent and with so much unspoken love, translated into the warmth of his lips.

Iwaizumi holds onto his thighs, nails scraping down untouched skin. It feels nice, when Iwaizumi grips him until he’s still, compared to how he pushed himself earlier. Iwaizumi’s nose bumps against the skin over Oikawa’s folds, and his tongue slides out from his mouth to lick at Oikawa’s lips.

Iwaizumi spells out words with his tongue, slipping inside and then pulling back out to scrape his teeth along Oikawa’s slit. One of his fingers spreads Oikawa open, and he feels bare and exposed, even more so than usual, when Iwaizumi focuses his mouth onto Oikawa’s insides.

His tongue thrusts in and out, tantalizing and frustratingly slow. He laps away at Oikawa, sucking in droplets of come and oh, his fingers are teasing against his entrance and Oikawa is so hot he feels like he may actually die. His thighs tense and Iwaizumi coaxes one to rest again with gentle pets, his tongue only moving faster when Oikawa gasps and strains underneath him.

Oikawa looks down and he can see it, he can see that Iwaizumi loves this. He moves his tongue with so much passion and devotion that Oikawa finds _himself_ being the one coaxing Iwaizumi. His voice is hurried, breaking with every word as Iwaizumi tears him apart from the seams. “Oh, you’re so—doing so good, Hajime, so good…” He bucks his hips. “Feels so good…”

Iwaizumi kisses around Oikawa’s center, carefully avoiding the one place that Oikawa is begging him to touch. His fingers are still playing with Oikawa’s entrance, deliberately careful not to slip inside. It would be so easy; he’s wet, prepared and soaked for Iwaizumi’s touch. Iwaizumi sucks flushed pink marks around Oikawa’s inner thighs. Oikawa can feel every time he breathes, warm air gliding along his skin and sweat.

Then he licks his lips and dives back in between his legs, dragging his tongue up and over his folds to that small, puffy nub. He sucks, lips curling outward so that he can take the patch of skin into his mouth, and Oikawa shakes and bucks his hips and _sobs_ , covering his face and then grabbing onto Iwaizumi’s hair. He rubs himself against Iwaizumi’s face, riding his mouth to oversensitivity, heat pooling in his stomach and straining, intense in the pit of his abdomen.

“Haaa—” Oikawa moans, biting down on his lip. Iwaizumi flicks his tongue in reply and presses a single finger inside him—just barely, not even past the knuckle. Oikawa cants his hips and succumbs to the feeling of Iwaizumi inside him, Iwaizumi’s mouth on him, Iwaizumi, _Iwaizumi_.

His mind goes blank and blurry when he finally looks down and sees Iwaizumi, eyes shut in concentration, hair mussed and flat against his forehead, drinking up Oikawa like every drop of him is precious.

Oikawa’s whole body freezes for a moment and Iwaizumi moans underneath him, prying his thighs apart so Oikawa doesn’t smother him. And then it begins to seep away, slowly but surely, and Oikawa is left absolutely breathless, chest heaving for air as he attempts, and fails, to collect his bearings.

Iwaizumi slides back up his body. His lips are swollen and still slick with Oikawa’s come. He tries to memorize his face in that moment, his relaxed expression, clouded green eyes piercing Oikawa with the weight of Iwaizumi’s love.

Oikawa is about to be content to drag Iwaizumi back down onto the bed, jerk him off, and then nap for a good ten hours, when Iwaizumi grabs the back of his head and kisses him.

“I want to do more,” he breathes, and the words sound so sensual that any thoughts of doing anything but pleasing Iwaizumi immediately leave his mind. “It’s your birthday, don’t pass out yet.”

“Mm,” Oikawa surveys Iwaizumi up and down. His clothes are crumpled, his whole body is red, and he can see the tell-tale tent in his pants. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Iwaizumi grins, a bit bashfully, and Oikawa’s interest is immediately piqued. He wraps his legs around Iwaizumi’s hips and presses kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, and the corner of his lips. Everywhere that he can reach. He deserves it. “Do you want to fuck me?” Oikawa asks, pressing his hips up against Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi moans, burying his face against Oikawa’s shoulder. He bites at the frail skin and then speaks against his collarbone, “I want you to fuck me.”

Oikawa’s heart stops for a moment in his chest, because just hearing Iwaizumi suggest it is reigniting the flames in his veins. “It’d be my pleasure,” Oikawa grins, bright and happy. He wraps Iwaizumi in his arms, not-so-subtly pinching his strong biceps. “And yours, of course.” He winks and Iwaizumi groans, bright red and embarrassed, both by Oikawa’s words and that silly wink.

Oikawa pulls off him to reach into their drawer and grab the lube. It’s strawberry-scented and cool when he pours it generously over his fingers. He leans back against the headboard and pats his lap, practically radiating smugness whenever Iwaizumi’s blush deepens.

Oikawa’s chest is going to burst, he thinks, by how much he loves this boy, with his angry eyebrows and big arms and weird affinity for bad movies.

“Take off your clothes for me?” Oikawa asks, and Iwaizumi nods silently. He rids himself of his shirt first, slipping it off over his head. Oikawa wishes he could run his hands down his chest, lap his tongue along his nipples and then trace out his abs with his fingers; but he’d rather do it while inside Iwaizumi, so he could coax even louder, even more special moans from him.

The pants come off soon after, Iwaizumi fumbling with his belt and then pushing down his boxers. He’s hard, engorged and red against his stomach. He turns around to open their drawer and pull out the strap-on, too, throwing it beside Oikawa and then crawling back onto the bed. Oikawa whistles when he sees Iwaizumi’s ass.

“You are so fucking weird,” Iwaizumi grumbles, seating himself on Oikawa’s lap. Oikawa smiles like a dork and moves one hand to hold Iwaizumi’s back. The other crawls down his body until it reaches his ass, and he squeezes appreciatively. “And you’re a pervert. Great.”

Oikawa kisses Iwaizumi’s jaw, big and wet and sloppy just for good measure. “You like it!”

Some of the lube has trickled down his arm, but it’s gotten nice and warm in the time it took for Iwaizumi to strip. He spreads Iwaizumi open with his thumb and middle finger, and then coaxes his index finger inside. It’s a tight squeeze, but the lube helps, and Iwaizumi grunts and sighs against him.

“Iwa-chan is so tight,” he marvels out loud, because he knows it’ll make Iwaizumi blush. His boyfriend hides his face, not saying a word as he thrusts lightly back onto Oikawa’s fingers. It’s nice and slick inside Iwaizumi—undoubtedly different from what it feels like to finger himself, but it’s incredible. Iwaizumi gasps quietly against him, not nearly as loud as Oikawa is.

He’s definitely going to try and make Iwaizumi as loud, thought.

“S-Shut up,” Iwaizumi grunts, words contradicting his actions as he rides against Oikawa’s fingers when he slips a second one in. There’s a bit more resistance this time, but he gets through the initial tightness after a few moments of pressing. Iwaizumi groans, hiding his face against Oikawa’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he mumbles.

Oikawa giggles. “Feels good?”

“Yes, just—” Oikawa curls his fingers inside him and watches in rapt fascination as Iwaizumi lifts his head slightly. Oikawa can see his eyes flutter shut, his reddened lips parted, gasping for air. “J-Just like that.”

Oikawa hums in agreement, thrusting his fingers in and out, slowly to gain a good pace and then faster when he does. He’s digging his fingers inside Iwaizumi, far past the first knuckle until he hits the second. Iwaizumi shakes on his lap, raking his fingers down Oikawa’s back and kissing Oikawa’s neck in a bad attempt to muffle his own noises.

“I can’t wait,” Oikawa whispers against the side of Iwaizumi’s head, his fingers scraping against Iwaizumi’s insides, nice and sleek from all the lube. “To get inside you, open you up…” Iwaizumi groans, bucking his hips. “I wish I could feel you properly, but I love hearing you cry out. You will, right? You’ll sing all those beautiful noises for me…”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi grinds out and moves to kiss him, sucking harshly on his lips. “Fuck me.”

Oikawa presses in a third finger and scissors him as quickly as he can, basking in the sound of Iwaizumi panting against his lips. He can feel himself getting hot again, that familiar uncomfortable tightness deep in his core that leaves a slick mess along the inside of his thighs. “I am, I am. So impatient…” he hums, as if he wasn’t straining for it himself.

He pulls out his fingers after a few tense moments. “Go on your back,” Oikawa rasps, nipping playfully at Iwaizumi’s ear. He nods and lowers himself onto his back while Oikawa fastens the strap-on around his hips. He was picky when he chose it—not too small, not too big, not too fake-looking but also not realistic enough that he would forget that it wasn’t attached to him. It’s the perfect fit, just snug enough around him that it won’t slide off while allowing Iwaizumi to still push his fingers in between his thighs if he wants.

He pulls open the cap on the bottle of lube and pours almost a quarter of the bottle onto himself, gliding the lube over the plastic until he’s satisfied. Iwaizumi tuts impatiently in front of him, awkwardly spreading his legs for him. Oikawa takes in the sight—Iwaizumi waiting for him, hole leaking remnants of lube, puckered and pink and ready for him. He licks his lips, sighs, and aligns himself with Iwaizumi’s entrance.

“Best birthday ever,” he beams as he pushes inside. And although he can’t feel _it_ , he can feel _Iwaizumi_ , tense and breathless underneath him. He tucks himself against Iwaizumi, his breasts pressing against his chest and Iwaizumi’s legs going to rest on his shoulders. He presses a kiss to the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips. “You okay?”

Iwaizumi thrusts his hips up in reply, winding his fingers through Oikawa’s. Both their palms are sweaty and Oikawa squeezes onto him tightly, nuzzling his face against Iwaizumi’s neck and whispering sweet words against his skin.

“I-I’m not made of glass,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “Go already.”

Oikawa snorts. _Always the romantic_ , he thinks, and Iwaizumi is. He moans in Oikawa’s ear just like Oikawa wanted him to, undoubtedly just because it’s his birthday and he’s already being fucked so he has nothing to lose anyways. Oikawa thrusts in slowly, getting used to the feeling of Iwaizumi’s weight sliding along him, before he gradually picks up his pace. Iwaizumi calls out to him, mumbling against his jaw what’s good, what’s amazing, what’s—“Fuck, f-fuck, Tooru—!”

He angles his hips, his own legs shifting every few moments. There’s a slight pressure against his clit every time he thrusts and he moves faster just for that, shutting his eyes and breathing in Iwaizumi’s scent and the smell of sex. “I—” Oikawa breathes out every word to the beat of his thrusts. His throat feels scratchy, strained hoarse from moaning. “Love—” He grips Iwaizumi’s hips to keep him in place as he pounds into him, his knees quivering and threatening to give out whenever there’s even the slightest pressure against his folds. “You, I-I love you, Hajime—”

Iwaizumi tangles his fingers through Oikawa’s hair—it’s thick and soft and Iwaizumi tugs at it without hesitation, guiding Oikawa with ease even while his back arches and his lips spill out soft cries. “I—aah, I love y-you too,” he says, grinding his lips in between his teeth. Oikawa’s breasts slap against him and he wraps his arms around Oikawa, pulling him in. There’s not even a millimeter of space in between him, and Oikawa can feel, _really_ feel Iwaizumi like this.

He can feel every tense of his legs, every stammer of his heart, every gulp in his throat and every rake of Iwaizumi’s fingers down his arms. Iwaizumi is sobbing dry underneath him, and even though he’s still not as loud as Oikawa, he’s more satisfied with this prize.

“Hajime,” he coos, and Iwaizumi’s hips stutter. Oikawa crawls his fingers down Iwaizumi’s body, starting at his hard nipples. He rolls them in between the pads of his fingers, then continues down his chest to his abs, hardened and defined from hours of working out. He traces the outline of his muscles, listening to Iwaizumi’s sweet cries.

Oikawa grips tightly onto Iwaizumi’s hips with his free time, nudges his legs further apart with his elbow, and thrusts into him with as much force as he can muster when his other hand reaches his cock. It’s nice and warm for him and he recognizes Iwaizumi as being far past the point of oversensitivity when he slides his thumb along the head, capturing some of the pre-cum leaking down the shaft onto his fingers.

“To—oh, oh, Tooru,” Iwaizumi sobs, and then he’s throwing his head back, writhing against the sheets and coming all over Oikawa’s hand. He spreads the come all over his fingers and then brings it to his mouth while Iwaizumi is still panting; he laps it up hungrily, and even though it doesn’t taste great, he sips it down his throat and stays seated deep inside Iwaizumi until the other catches his breath.

Oikawa’s eyelashes flutter and he pulls out, hastily unfastening the strap on and throwing it off the bed so he can straddle Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi only looks at him, dazed, eyes barely open as he takes in Oikawa’s form over him.

He’s feeling lazy himself, and he only rubs himself against Iwaizumi slowly, drawing words onto Iwaizumi’s stomach. Iwaizumi takes the clue eventually; spreading Oikawa’s legs open with more care and much less vigor than before.

Oikawa’s eyes shut and he focuses on Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi spent and beautiful beside him, slipping two fingers inside him and stroking his thighs gently. Oikawa sighs happily, slowly moving against Iwaizumi and pushing his fingers in deeper.

Iwaizumi’s touch is like magic, finding every spot that makes Oikawa whine, until he’s a tired, blubbering mess. He hooks his fingers and thrusts upwards and he feels every point in his body tingle as his second orgasm washes over him—it goes just as quickly as it comes, and Iwaizumi pulls out his fingers and wipes Oikawa’s come off onto his thighs.

Iwaizumi pulls him down, pressing Oikawa on top of him. “You’re a pervert too, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, fitting his head comfortably under Iwaizumi’s chin. “You just like it when I put my chest on yours.”

“You’re not allowed to talk, you hypocrite. You’re always touching my arms…” Iwaizumi counters, voice straining with exhaustion. He holds Oikawa tightly, tangling their legs, and even though they’re naked and covered in sweat and come, it doesn’t feel as gross as it probably should.

Oikawa closes his eyes, hums, and laughs, not being able to deny that. He throws his arm over Iwaizumi’s waist and presses one last kiss to his neck.

“Better than practice, right?” Iwaizumi asks jokingly, lightly smoothing down Oikawa’s hair.

Oikawa rolls his eyes, but he laughs at the same time, because even though he loves volleyball and the rush it gives him, there’s nothing that can compare to this. There’s nothing in the world that’s like Iwaizumi, his words and his touch and the feeling of him pushing into Oikawa and taking him in. “This isn’t fair,” he mumbles, squirming. “If I say yes, Iwa-chan is going to brag, but if I say no, he’ll cry. Both of those sound terrible.”

Iwaizumi huffs against his head. “I shoved my tongue inside you and you’re already back to being rude. I should've known. Next year, I’ll just buy you a cake or something.”

Oikawa’s smiling so wide it hurts his cheeks. He relaxes, finally, his whole body bubbling with happiness.

“Don’t worry so much, Iwa-chan.” He moves upwards so they’re face to face and he can peck Iwaizumi’s lips lightly. “Now that I know what your standards are for a good birthday, I’ll make your next one heavenly.”

Iwaizumi laughs and presses a kiss back before settling into the sheets, and Oikawa realizes he doesn’t need to make Iwaizumi feel heavenly, because he’s already an angel.

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://mermaidfiesta.tumblr.com/
> 
> *pours holy water all over myself*
> 
> comments/kudos/everything is all really appreciated and loved!!! thank you so much for reading!


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